Cherish & Blessed (22 page)

Jim lay there, arms wrapped around Griffin’s body, and watched the moonlight. Neither of them slept, but no one said a word.

I
N
THE
morning Griffin woke up alone.

He was covered with the blanket, the blinds closed to keep the sun from waking him. On the table nearest him was a carafe of coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a banana.

Griffin pushed his face into the chaise and breathed.

A
FTER
A
sh
ower he felt a little more connected to reality. He skipped the contacts and the Hollywood clothes and threw on a pair of gray basketball shorts and a white T-shirt from a surf school in Hawaii depicting a dolphin scuba diving. His hair he still spent time on, because he might be dressing down, but he wasn’t uncivilized. He drank his coffee sitting on the floor, a perfect shaft of sunlight warming him.

The breakfast was from Jim, that much he was sure of. He ate every crumb, drank another cup of coffee, and let himself find a center to his turmoil.

This wasn’t a bad crossroads, Griffin knew that. It was just about being grown-up and a loving partner instead of someone afraid to share his thoughts and feelings. That was the behavior of a man who wasn’t in love with Jim Shea (which he was—he was totally in love with him), the most upstanding and decent person he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

They could get through this—whatever “this” was—and make it all better.

That he was sure of.

I
N
THE
hallway, juggling the little tray with remnants of his eaten breakfast, Griffin came face to face with Bennett, beach towels over his arm and clearly dressed for the water in trunks and a short-sleeve shirt—unbuttoned, of course.

“Hey, are you feeling better? Jim said you had a headache,” Bennett asked, shutting the linen closet door.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Griffin waffled for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Um, Bennett—I know this is supposed to be a no-work weekend, but can I talk to you for a moment?”

They went downstairs, the kitchen deserted as everyone was apparently down by the beach. Griffin busied himself putting his breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, as Bennett sat on a stool at the large marble island.

“Is everything all right?” Bennett asked, his handsome face serious as he watched Griffin.

“Yeah, I mean, it will be. I just wanted to ask—or say, rather—thank you for the producer credit. It’s very kind. I just don’t know if I’m able to handle it right now. Or that I know what I’m doing.”

“Lori says you’ve been doing a wonderful job—I just talked to her this morning,” Bennett said.

Griffin spun around, trying to keep his jaw from falling open.

Bennett seemed to take his expression for something else and grinned. “Don’t tell Daisy, okay? I’m not supposed to be working.”

“She said….”

“She said you have great ideas and a good handle on what needs to be done, and that’s all I need to hear.” Bennett’s comforting smile slipped back into seriousness. “Is there something else going on? I don’t want to force you to do this, Griffin, but if it’s a confidence thing, you shouldn’t have a crisis over it. You’re doing great.”

Griffin nodded. Well, this wasn’t going as anticipated. “Thanks. I guess I’m just overly concerned about getting it right.”

“No one gets it 100 percent on the first try.” He winked. “Except for me, of course.”

“Of course.” Griffin relaxed a bit as he leaned against the counter. He even managed a real smile. “Not all of us have your magic touch.”

Bennett’s expression did something Griffin never expected: He looked vulnerable.

“I’ve never had a flop in this business. Everything I’ve done has made a profit,” Bennett said slowly, tracing a random pattern on the marble countertop. “Matt calls me Daddy Warbucks, and I suppose that’s accurate in more than one way.”

Griffin got it. He nodded slowly. “Daisy.”

“I thought I knew what I wanted out of life—I mean, I had everything you’re supposed to want. Sleeping with attractive people, living exactly the way I wanted, answering to no one.” Bennett traced a heart with his fingertip. “No consequences to my actions.”

“Then along comes a pretty girl….” Griffin laughed, but Bennett shook his head.

“No, then along came a woman who was reduced to a suitcase and no prospects. Who auditioned with a ferocious energy that no one else came close to matching.” He sounded… awed. “She was sitting at her rock bottom and didn’t try to hide it—she just tried to turn it around. I think I fell in love by the time she finished her monologue.”

Curiosity pushed Griffin forward. He walked to stand opposite Bennett, who was still drawing on the marble. “I never quite understood—” he started to say.

“How I dated men but married a woman? I assume that’s your question. I know everyone’s dying to ask.”

Griffin tucked his head down, blushing.

“Actually there were plenty of women—I just happened to step out on the red carpet with men.” Bennett shrugged. “But a bisexual man is generally labeled gay, and to my shame, I didn’t do anything to correct it.”

Griffin tsked, even as he took a moment to poke at his own prejudices, knowing that more often than not, he assumed that as well. “So Daisy wasn’t a total reversal.”

“No, she was. Because I didn’t want to sleep with her—I mean, I did.” Bennett laughed loudly. “Even you can understand that.”

“I’ve been around since she went through puberty—believe me, you weren’t the first man to think that way,” Griffin said, arid and arch.

“So yes—yes. I’m no better than any of those other men. I thought she was stunning and… and… powerful in her vulnerability. I wanted to make her my muse and my girlfriend and… and then I realized I couldn’t make her do anything.”

The smile seemed to sink off his face. Bennett gave Griffin a shrug. “Everything I had, everything I could offer—that wasn’t what Daisy wanted. She was looking to start over, to find herself. And that’s what I wanted to give her. The freedom to do that—to be whoever she wanted, without my input,” he finished wryly.

“You didn’t want to change her,” Griffin said, suddenly realizing what Bennett was really saying.

“No.”

Griffin kicked the floor, his sneakers making a scuffing sound. “Even if it would make things easier.”

“There’s nothing easy about hiding who you are and what you want, even for the sake of less arguments.”

“Ouch,” Griffin sighed.

Bennett seemed confused, so Griffin reached over and patted his hand. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for… just thanks.”

“For?”

“For helping me and Daisy, and bringing Sadie into this world so I could be the most irritatingly involved godfather ever.”

“Duly noted.” Bennett gave Griffin’s hand a squeeze. “Now I’m going to go out and enjoy my guests and my favorite ladies in a spot with a million-dollar view.”

“Braggart.”

Bennett laughed as he got up, collected his towels. “Are you coming down?”

“Yeah. Gimme a few minutes?”

And then Griffin was alone.

T
HERE
WERE
little furniture vignettes everywhere on the expansive first floor. The living room, the formal living room (which meant no television, as far as Griffin understood decorating terms), the television room (where the television was bigger than the one in the regular living room), a music room with everything from a grand piano to a jukebox, and two dining rooms.

Who the hell needed two dining rooms?

But he couldn’t deny it was a beautiful home, tasteful and not at all in the “look, don’t touch” scheme of Daisy’s house when she was married to Claus.

Past the music room, Griffin found the library, with narrow windows and warm overstuffed furniture in shades of honey and slate blue. He poked around at the various shelves—a wide selection of summer reading and more serious tomes, and possibly every book ever written about Broadway. The original idea was to clear his head for a moment and head down to the beach, but for now, he grabbed an unauthorized biography of David Merrick and settled into the chair nearest the window to read.

J
IM
FOUND
him there an hour later, book on his chest, head tipped back, snoring quietly in the sunlight.

He’d come up from the beach after some time with the group; laughter and chatting permeated the air, but Jim felt quiet in the reflection of so many happy couples—and little Sadie in her bouncy seat, swaddled up and tucked under a wide umbrella. She kicked and trilled, grabbing at the brightly colored toys suspended over her.

She also produced the most toxic smell Jim had ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and he used to work Homicide.

Mostly Jim watched Bennett and Daisy, the glamorous couple who spent so much of their lives being the center of attention and living unencumbered, now entirely focused on their baby girl.

It didn’t make sense to him, but then, maybe it didn’t have to.

He made his excuses and set off to find Griffin, knowing glances from Evan and Daisy sending him on his way.

He wanted to say
What do you see?
because he wasn’t sure.

It took him the walk from the beach to finding Griffin sleeping in the library to make up his mind.

G
RIFFIN
WOKE
up to Jim’s touch, just a gentle stroke across his cheek. He started, dropping the book on the floor, then rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

“Oh, sorry—fell asleep. I meant to come down,” Griffin said, picking the book up.

Jim didn’t say anything.

Griffin started to get up, the book in hand. “Let me wash my face or something—God, I’m just so sleepy….”

He put the book on the shelf, turned around.

And found Jim in the chair he’d just vacated.

“I’m not having sex with you in a library,” Griffin said, pursing his lips. “It’s unseemly.”

Jim patted his lap, but Griffin held firm—for about ten seconds. Then the pull of Jim’s eyes and the fact that he loved him stupid glorious amounts…. Griffin straddled his legs, soaking in the warmth of his body.

“Hi,” Jim said tenderly, and Griffin’s heart beat a little bit faster.

“Hi.”

“I think we’ve been acting like assholes to each other for a few weeks.” Jim rubbed Griffin’s arms. “We need to talk.”

“I hate talking.”

“You talk all the damn time. You talk in your sleep. You talk during sex—” Jim rattled off, until Griffin put his palm over his mouth.

“I talk, but I don’t always say what I should.” Griffin swallowed as Jim nodded. Then he pulled his hand away. “I love you, and I love our life, but I don’t want to live in guest rooms and hotels anymore.”

Jim smiled as he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Griffin’s bottom lip. “I want to live anywhere you’re happy,” he said gently.

Griffin’s smile faltered slightly. “LA? Seattle?” he asked softly, plucking nervously at Jim’s T-shirt.

“Whichever.”

“New York?”

That caught Jim’s attention. Griffin felt him tense, felt his hands tighten on his arms.

“New York? Seriously?”

“I don’t want to live with my dad,” Griffin pushed on. “And we can split our time if you want—Seattle and then have a place here—but… I want to be with my family. I know he’s better and the doctors don’t think he’s in danger, but that heart attack—it scared the crap out of me, Jim. I don’t want to be three thousand miles away from him if anything happens again. And now Sadie’s here and I just—I would really love to see her grow up.”

Jim didn’t say anything, just stared at him deep and serious until Griffin felt the panic start to rise. It welled up in his gut, his throat, until he wanted to take the words back.

“Okay.”

Griffin blinked.

“Okay, we’ll get a place here,” Jim murmured, reaching up to touch Griffin’s face. “In between your dad’s and the city, so you can be around Sadie and still keep an eye on him.”